Drunken Fools
by native portlandian
Summary: They met in a bar. AU. Fluffy one-shot because you guys really need more of these.


Garrus had never been someone who found himself attracted to aliens. In his near thirty years of life, he'd only been interested in romantic encounters with his own species. Sure, he could see why other Turians enjoyed the pleasing appearance of Asari or the physical compatibility of Quarians, but Garrus had never taken part in that adventure. He was a pretty vanilla guy – fuck, the only porn he watched was Turian on Turian.

Living on the Citadel made it a little harder to find others who shared his preferences. And there was significantly less available Turian women milling about. Put all that up there with the fact that he was absolutely horrible at making any semblance of "smooth moves" in a first encounter. Whenever a possible lover spoke to him, he would end up saying something unintentionally offensive or utterly awkward. He got more suave when he was drunk, but still only succeeded if the woman in question was also smashed and lonely.

And that's what he was currently: smashed and lonely. The Asari bartender had started to selectively ignore his requests for a refill on his whiskey. Deep down, he knew it was for the best, but once again: smashed and lonely. He was considering giving up and leaving when his eyes caught onto something across the bar.

It was her hair. Brilliant red, gleaming crimson beneath the low bar lights. He'd never seen anything quite like it – it was mesmerizing. Never mind that she was a human. Garrus felt an intensive need to speak to her, to look at her up close.

Too drunk to really realize how odd his behavior was, Garrus slipped off his barstool and began walking around the bar toward her, gaze fixed on her face. She had a relatively neutral expression on her face, but it was hard to tell. He wasn't very good at human expressions – the ones he was most privy to as C-Sec were intense anger and fear, with the occasional crier. The woman had a beer bottle in one hand, but she couldn't have been here long. He would've noticed her.

He stopped a few feet away from her, her eyes slowly lifting from the beer to his face. Her face was peppered with small spots – freckles, his visor offered – and her eyes were dark green. Up by the line where her hair parted from the skin of her face was a long, almost hidden scar. Garrus still wasn't sure why he wanted to know her so badly.

"Hello," he choked out, his mind barely registering what he was doing.

"Hey," she said, one eyebrow quirking up. Her expression didn't change much besides that, and he cursed the fact that humans only had one vocal tone. He briefly registered that her jacket had the N7 insignia on it. Human military.

"How are you?" Garrus was already regretting speaking to her. What in the world had he been thinking? She would probably sic a bouncer on him if he got any closer to her.

To his surprise, the N7 gave him a smile – the human sign of friendliness. She indicated her head toward the bar space next to her. "Better with company. Want a drink?"

Garrus blinked a few times before moving stiffly to sit next to her. She waved over the bartender. The Asari only briefly narrowed her eyes at Garrus before turning to the woman. "What can I get for you, commander?"

 _A commander_? Garrus held back a grunt of surprise. Now that he thought about it, she did have an air of respect about her. Not as much as a Turian commander would, but enough to make him feel bad about approaching her without mentioning her rank. It wasn't like she was wearing her uniform, and the lack of face-paint always confused him when talking to other species, but all the same.

"A beer for my friend here," the commander answered, flicking her hand in Garrus' direction. She turned to him, mouth quirked up on one side. "Sorry, I don't really know the dextro alcohol too well."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Garrus chuckled, accepting the bottle from the bartender. "You're a commander?"

The woman made a huffing noise. "Yep. Commander Jane Shepard of Alliance military at your service." She gave him a mock salute. Garrus' mandibles twitched in humor. "And who do I owe the pleasure of company to?"

"Officer Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec," he said automatically. "Off-duty, of course."

She smiled again, baring her small, square white teeth. "It's nice to meet you, Garrus." They clinked bottles and sipped. The dextro beer was not of the best quality and probably not that much more alcoholic than water, but he didn't mind. It was probably best not to get more drunk.

"What brings you to the Citadel?" Garrus asked, running the tip of his glove around the rim of his bottle.

"Shore leave," Shepard answered. "I'm currently waiting on the council. They claim to have a special mission for me, but have yet to call me up."

"The council?" Garrus asked, eyes widening. Usually only Spectres and other high up officials spoke directly with the council.

"Unfortunately," she said, mouth turning down in a grimace. "Bunch of lazy fucks with sticks up their asses if you ask me."

Garrus nearly choked on his beer with the laugh that suddenly erupted from his chest. The absurdity of such a statement coupled with all of the alcohol already in his system made his usual stoicism fly out the window. "Sticks in their asses? What are you even saying, commander?"

Shepard was laughing a little as well, at least a somewhat loosened by the beer. "It's a human figure of speech, like they're uptight. I can see how strange that must have sounded."

"Very strange," Garrus said, his laughter beginning to die down.

They continued to talk, swapping stories about apprehending criminals and the various gun collections each had. Shepard told Garrus about all of the places she had been for N7 training; about all the people she had met and the monsters she had battled. He listened to it all, watching her loosen up with each beer past her lips. She was still mesmerizing to watch and listen to. Her voice was husky and warm, almost close to a Turian's signature rasp. Her lips were very interesting to him – they moved constantly, shaping words and expressions the likes of which he had never seen. It was…enchanting. He had to stop himself from reaching out and touching them.

He wasn't listening completely when she asked him a question. He was comfortably resting in the haze of alcohol and her voice and it took a moment for him to realize that she was looking at him expectantly. "I'm sorry, commander," he said, straightening up and clearing his throat. "What was that?"

Shepard laughed, shaking her head. Red hair danced like water in the low light, and Garrus followed it with his eyes. "Will you stop calling me commander? I'm not at work. Call me Shepard. Or Jane, I guess. But most people just stick with Shepard." She smiled at him. Her cheeks were flushed with alcohol.

"Okay, Shepard," he said. The name fell easily off his tongue. "What did you ask me?"

Her eyes glimmered. "I asked if you want to dance, Vakarian."

He was taken aback slightly. "Dance?"

"Yes," Shepard laughed. "Don't you dance? I've totally seen Turians dance. At least, I think I have." She nudged him playfully. He barely felt it through his plates, but the touch still sent a flood of heat through his chest. Spirits, he was drunk.

"You want to dance?" A sudden rush of bravery over took him, and he grabbed both of her hands, laughing at her squeak of surprise. "Then let's dance, Commander Shepard."

Shepard's multi-fingered hands kept their grip on his as he pulled her onto the dance floor. She was laughing and hiccupping, definitely drunker than she had been. It made him laugh as well, a purr beginning to rumble from his chest. He did not attempt to suppress it – the music was too loud to hear it anyway.

She let go of him to move independently to the music. He watched her awkward movements, laughing and making playful remarks, probably not looking much better himself. However, for once in his life, he didn't particularly care what others thought of him. Shepard was greatly enjoying herself, despite her general clumsiness and no sense of rhythm. Other patrons began to give them dirty looks, but it only added to their mirth. After a particularly angry Turian asked him to remove the woman from the dance floor before she hurt someone, Garrus chuckled and pulled Shepard's arm, bringing her up to his chest. She barely came up to his cowl.

"What are you doing?" she asked, smile still on her face.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he rumbled, suddenly realizing how close she was.

"We gonna slow dance?" she giggled, raising an eyebrow. "You makin' the moves on me, Garrus?" She put a hand on his cowl, the other entwining her fingers into his. Out of habit, Garrus wrapped his fingers around her waist. It was soft; much fleshier than what he was used to.

"Did you want me to?" he said, probably almost too soft for her to hear. Shepard's face reddened deeper, and he wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Wow," she chuckled, looking down at his chest. They were swaying now, ignoring their surrounding bar-goers. "Look at you, Mr. Smooth Talker."

"I've been told that before," Garrus rumbled, his mandibles twitching. "Mostly by my mother, of course."

Shepard laughed again, her fingers tightening on his. Garrus felt another rush of heat in his chest, and his purr grew somewhat. He was having trouble suppressing it, which worried him slightly. Maybe he was _too_ drunk.

"Are you…vibrating?" Shepard asked, eyebrows creasing. She pressed herself closer to his chest, her soft body conforming to his. Garrus was convinced she was close enough to feel his heart, even through the thick plates of his chest and his keel bone.

"Er, no." His plates itched with embarrassment. He struggled to halt the vibrations, but only succeeded in making them come in bursts, like hiccups. Garrus was now entirely regretting those last few beers.

Shepard giggled, pressing the side of her head on the side of his chest. Garrus immediately lost his concentration as her hair fluffed up toward his face, and his purring went back to its normal rhythm. He cursed himself, but _spirits_ she smelled interesting. He had no idea what the scent was but it made his blood feel like sparks in his veins.

"You're like a little motor," Shepard laughed. Her hands were now on both sides of his keel bone as she listened. "Or a cat!"

"A what?" Garrus asked, a small chuckle escaping him.

Shepard finally leaned back from him, her green eyes glimmering with mirth. "A cat. We have them on earth. They're these little animals we keep as pets. When they're happy they –" She stopped suddenly, a small hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her eyes widened.

"What?" Garrus said, suddenly afraid he had scared her. "What do they do?" Something embarrassing, probably.

The commander took her freckled hand away from her mouth. It had been covering a large smile. "Are you purring, Garrus?"

Garrus was taken aback. She recognized his vocalizations? A creature on earth had similar ones? He considered just turning and leaving. Any self-respecting Turian would have by now. But something made him stay.

"Well," he started, rocking back slightly, "to put it simply, yes."

Shepard laughed again. But it was friendly. She smiled up at him, face red with drink. "I've gotta be honest with you, Vakarian. That's the cutest damn thing I've ever seen."

Garrus rumbled good-naturedly. "Cute? I would've preferred 'dashing' maybe. Or 'incredibly handsome'."

Shepard punched his arm jokingly. "Listen to you, you sass-master." She tossed her head in the direction of a table in a shadowy corner of the bar. "Wanna take a seat? I think we've worn out our welcome on this dance floor."

Garrus was glad to oblige, and followed her back to the corner table. For such a small human, Shepard moved with a swiftness he almost wasn't prepared for. She parted the crowd easily, head held high and red hair glowing under the low light. He had to admit – it was kinda hot.

They sat across from each other. Shepard immediately leaned forward, resting her chin on the broad palm of her hand. Garrus couldn't help but lean forward slightly too – it was loud in there, after all.

"So," Shepard said, one eyebrow popping upwards toward her forehead. "Do all Turians purr?"

Garrus shifted, somewhat uncomfortably. "Er, yes, technically. Not all the time, of course. Our secondary vocalizations are usually difficult for other species to hear unless they're…particularly strong. And even then, we usually have control over them."

Shepard smirked, her soft mouth pulling up at the corner. "Usually?"

He looked down at the table, embarrassed. "I'm rather drunk, Shepard," he said. She let out a loud laugh, making him look back up at her. She was still laughing, leaning back and clutching the table. Garrus started to laugh too a little, more at her laughing than anything. Shepard wiped her finger under her eye, still giggling.

"Hell, me too!" she snickered. "I don't know why else I'd be flirting with a Turian!"

Garrus's mandibles twitched outward. "Oh, so you've been flirting then?"

Shepard pushed on his arm lightly, the flush from the drink somewhat redder. "You weren't supposed to know!"

Garrus laughed. "You just told me!"

She snorted, her hand reaching back on her head to grab a fistful of hair. It seemed like a natural action for her, as if she didn't know she was even doing it. Garrus suddenly wondered what fistfuls of her hair in his claws would feel like.

Feeling a sudden burst of courage, he reached out a gloved hand and cupped her cheek. Shepard opened her eyes, looking shocked. Garrus could feel the heat of her cheek, and how squishy the flesh was. The lightest press revealed the hardness of bone at the top of her cheek, where the roundest part was. It was still softer than any part of him. His large hand practically dwarfed her face – the tips of his claws touched the roots of her hair and his palm could feel the outline of her jaw under her skin.

Not really entirely sure what he was doing or why he was doing it, he brushed his thumb onto the corner of her mouth. Although he couldn't feel much texture through the gloves, he could sense a plump softness to her lips. They were even warmer than the rest of her skin. They were just barely parted in the center, showing a glimpse of the tiny white teeth underneath. Garrus was entranced by them. He'd never seen a creature so _soft_ before.

"Um, Garrus?" Shepard said. When her mouth moved with the words, he felt it against his thumb. It was so _interesting_.

"Mm?" he grunted, still looking at her mouth. He wanted to feel her speak again.

The trance was broken when Shepard grabbed his wrist and gently pulled his arm away from her face. He snapped back to his sitting position, suddenly realizing that he had leaned forward a great deal. Embarrassment flooded him. "I…I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Shepard's face was very red now. Her pupils were wide within her irises. Garrus had no idea what that meant, and hoped it didn't mean she was angry. "I'm sorry commander," he said, lowering his head in a Turian sign of submission. "I didn't mean to overstep my-"

"Not here." Her voice was low and almost quiet, as if her breath was the only thing carrying her words. Garrus glanced up, his heart doing a weird leap in his chest.

"What?"

Shepard closed her eyes and shook her head. A smirk pulled at her lips again. "Wanna get out of here? I know a place less crowded."

Garrus blinked several times, wondering if she was saying what he thought she might be saying. "Alright," he finally said. The alcohol had made him courageous, but not so brave as to completely leave behind his comfort zone.

Shepard got up from the table, motioning him to follow with a twitch of her chin. He got up, hoping his legs had the strength to not completely collapse beneath him. They walked outside the bar, out into the moderately busy streets of the night life district of the Citadel. Instead of hailing a cab, like Garrus expected, Shepard weaved into the crowds, making her way out of the area. Garrus almost had a hard time keeping up with her – luckily, he was tall enough to track her glowing red hair through the colorful crowd.

It was dark in the Citadel, the lights dimmed to simulate night-time. Small lights twinkled at intervals along the paths in the Presidium, keeping citizens from tripping over themselves in the gloom. The various plants from nearly every world in the Milky Way rustled in the gentle breeze of the air filters, looking like large leafy shadows looming on either side of the path. The crowds thinned into nothing the further they got into the Presidium, and Shepard and Garrus soon found themselves alone.

Shepard stopped on a bridge overlooking some lower paths. A light on a stalk above them illuminated her in a soft bluish glow. Garrus came up next to her, joining her as she leaned on the railing.

"This is a good spot," Shepard said, breaking the almost perfect silence. She glanced up at him, a slight smile on her lips. "It's always quiet here."

"I didn't see you as someone who enjoyed quiet," Garrus chuckled. Shepard nodded.

"I'm not," she said, "but sometimes you need it. Especially as a soldier." She was quiet for a moment. Her smile faded. "Garrus, can I ask a somewhat personal question?"

He rumbled, unsure how to answer that. He wasn't really one for sharing information about himself. But there was something about this human, something that made him trust her. "Sure."

"I don't know much about Turian culture," she started, "but I wanted to know if you've ever served in your military."

Garrus huffed in surprise. It was a weird question to be asked, but considering he spent most of his time in the company of fellow Turians, he always expected that people knew. "Turians are expected to serve the state for at least fifteen years of their life," he said, glancing up at the top of the presidium. "I began military training at fifteen. My father later convinced me to join C-Sec instead."

Shepard nodded. She looked as though her gaze was fixed on something far away. "Did you ever see combat, Garrus?"

"Not while in the military," he grumbled. "I was born after the First-Contact War. Nothing's really happened since then."

"That's fair," Shepard said. Her voice was quiet. The silence returned to the bridge. Garrus began to feel uncomfortable. Had he said something wrong? Was mentioning the First-Contact War a bad move? He internally flinched. Of _course_ it was. Shit.

Before he could try and backtrack, Shepard cleared her throat. "I enlisted at eighteen. My parents were in the Alliance, so I thought I might as well too." Her hand moved up to caress the scar on her forehead. "I've seen…a lot. Enough that being places like this – quiet places – is really…nice." She looked up at Garrus again, the smile back on her face. "Sorry about that. Kinda got a little too serious."

Garrus huffed, his mandibles twitching. "It's alright, Shepard. I've definitely been on weirder dates."

She laughed at that, exploding with that warm, happy sound his translators could never comprehend. Her cheeks reddened again. He liked her red cheeks, with their tiny brown spots. He suddenly wanted to touch them again.

"Oh, so this is a date?" Shepard laughed, her eyes glittering in the dim light. "Had I known, I would've worn a dress!"

Garrus had no idea what she meant by that, but chuckled along anyway. "What? You take me to a romantic place like this and expect me _not_ to think it's a date?"

Shepard giggled again. She brushed her red hair behind an ear and looked up at him, eyes half-lidded. Garrus swallowed the sudden burst of heat in his throat. He looked down at her, suddenly realizing how alien she was and how over his head he was becoming.

"You can kiss me now, if you want," Shepard murmured. Her voice was low and husky. Garrus had to admit that the change of tone made heat swell up between his plates. However, there was one little problem.

"What's a kiss?" he asked, slowly. Embarrassment began to creep into his voice as he watched Shepard's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You don't know what a kiss is?" she said, her tone incredulous. "Really?"

"I'm sorry," he said, bringing one hand up to anxiously brush back his frill. "My translator isn't helping me. All it's saying is "human and Asari display of affection". That can mean a lot of things."

Shepard laughed suddenly, smacking the wall of the bridge. Garrus lurched back, not entirely sure what she was laughing about. "Of course!" she said, "Turians don't have lips. Oh, wow. I forgot that for a second." Her cheeks were very red. "I'm sorry, Garrus. I just…I dunno, got caught up in the moment." She looked away. Garrus suddenly realized that she was embarrassed as well.

He tentatively reached over and brushed his fingers under her chin, pulling her around so she met his eyes again. "May I…show you how Turians display affection?" Shepard's face softened, and she nodded slowly. He brushed his hand up onto her cheek again, cupping the soft roundness and hoping that his gloves weren't cold. His other hand came up to the other side of her face. Shepard kept his gaze, her small hands brushing his sensitive waist and making him shiver. Garrus swallowed his nerves and brought his forehead down softly on hers, closing his eyes. Instinctively, his secondary vocals began to hum, making the air between them buzz. He could feel her pointed nose brush his, which was unexpected but not unwelcome.

Very suddenly, the realization of what he was doing hit him. Spirits, this was a _human_ he was showing this to. A human! He cleared his throat and pulled back, his mandibles quivering with embarrassment. "Shepard, I –"

Without waiting for him to continue, the commander lurched up onto her toes and grabbed his neck before he could pull all the way back, jerking him down to her height. She smashed her soft, warm mouth onto his plates, small, ticklish fingers brushing the underside of his mandibles.

It was weird.

She pulled back, taking deep, gulping breaths and smiling. Garrus wasn't sure how he felt – his belly was roiling with a mix of emotions he didn't dare attempt to untangle.

"Sorry," Shepard breathed. Her green eyes were bright, the round pupils dilated. "I just wanted to try that."

Garrus once again found himself struggling for words. "You didn't just attack me, right?"

Shepard laughed, her hand coming up to smack his elbow. "You're teasing me, right Vakarian? I can't be _that_ bad of a kisser."

His mandibles fluttered. "You kissed me?"

Shepard coughed another laugh, suddenly looking very embarrassed. "Well, I really liked your Turian thingy. It was cute. So I thought I'd show you how humans do it. Was it too forward? Should I have warned you or something?"

Garrus chuckled, trying to regain his smooth composure. "Can we try that again? A little…slower, maybe?"

Shepard snapped her mouth closed and nodded, giving him a mock salute. "I will try not to attack you this time, officer."

Garrus rumbled a laugh. "Thank you, commander."

He leaned down to her again, brushing his thumb once more over her lips. She let her small hands rest on his chest as she leaned forward. Her eyes closed and he followed suit, allowing her to lead. Her mouth brushed his again, her delicate lips pressing softly to his plates. Her breath was warm and her lips moist – Garrus once more registered it as an unusual feeling but not a bad one. When her lips moved against his mouth, he did something that he probably wouldn't have done had he not had several shots of whiskey – he kissed her back. Well, kiss may not be the right term, as he didn't have any lips. Instead he softly nipped her. She gasped, but didn't pull back. He nipped her again, and she groaned slightly. It was… _very_ sexy.

When she pulled away, Garrus suddenly felt disappointed. He liked kissing her. He wanted to kiss her more.

Shepard grinned. Her mouth was red and slightly swollen. "Damn," she growled. "I should've kissed a turian sooner."

"We can always do it again," Garrus growled back, clacking his teeth. "I think it's a great way to bring our species closer, don't you?"

Shepard laughed again. "I like the way you think, Vakarian."

note: i've never written for this fandom before. hope y'all liked it


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